


Room for a tourist

by adelaide_rain



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the hotel level, Eames reveals to Saito that the best way to take his mind off of the pain of his wound is an orgasm, and proceeds to prove it to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room for a tourist

The hotel was designed to be a maze but that was nothing new.

All hotels seemed to be, with identical corridors on every floor and Saito had spent no small part of his working life in hotels

There had even been instances in which he had been tracked through places like this, though usually his pursuers had more subtlety, more intelligence, than those who were followed him now.

Was it because they were projections of the subconscious? Were they just drones, focusing mindlessly on their goal? Something to investigate at a later point, Saito thought; he had many ideas about how he could use dreamshare but now was not the time for research.

The gunshot wound he had sustained on the first level was less painful down here. On the level above it had been all-encompassing agony; down here it was a thrumming ache. Steadily it was getting worse, encroaching on his ability to think clearly but Saito had chosen Cobb for a reason. He was confident that he and his team would be able to get the job done before it got too bad. Pain and medication might have been fragmenting Saitos’s perception after he had been shot but he had been aware enough to understand that if he died he wouldn’t wake. But that was something that could be dealt with later, if it became necessary. Saito always lived in the present.

Turning a corner to another identical corridor, he saw Eames leaning against a wall, looking in the other direction.

Saito had done a background check on all of Cobb’s team, for all the good it did. Most of them were shrouded in firewalls and fake identities and none more so than Eames. All it produced was a muddled set of conflicting information: his first name was Charles, or Daniel, or William, or Eames was his first name.

He was in his early thirties, that much was verifiable by his appearance; though his date of birth changed with his names.

Whether he had been a minor royal, SAS, MI6, a romance writer, a baker, a coffee shop owner, a psychologist, before he descended into the criminal underworld, Saito had no idea. Perhaps none; perhaps all.

What Saito did know about Eames was that his accent was real, the inflection too perfect for a forgery – though after seeing the Blonde in the lift he was less sure of that.

He was also certain that Eames was very attractive. He was capable, intelligent and focused; these things alone were enough to capture Saito’s interest. But combined with the broad shoulders, the sharp grey eyes, the hint of muscle beneath the purposely baggy clothes, Saito was planning on propositioning him when they landed in LAX. He could use a man like Eames, both in his bed and out of it.

As Saito approached, Eames glanced over, focus sharpening over Saito’s shoulder at his pursuers.

“Finally, darling,” Eames said, pushing himself up from the wall and giving Saito a smirk. “Where _have_ you been?”

Saito stopped beside Eames, unsure of his plan. “My apologies,” he started, but before he could say anything further Eames stepped forward, some unknown message flashing in his eyes; then his lips met Saito’s.

After a startled split-second Saito leaned into the kiss. He was certain that Eames had a plan; why not get a little pleasure from it as well?

Saito slid his tongue between Eames’s lips, tasted bourbon he was certain Eames hadn’t drank. Was that a forgery as well? The wetness of his mouth stirred hunger in Saito, hunger he suppressed. Here and now was most certainly neither the time nor the place.

“How about we take this somewhere a little more private?” Eames asked, reaching behind himself to open a door. As he pulled Saito into the room, the projection who had been following Saito walked past them without so much as a glance.

“What was that?” Saito asked as Eames closed the door, sliding an unmarked keycard into his pocket.

“A trick.” Eames opened the mini-bar and pulled out two miniature bottles of whiskey. “Listen closely, Mr. Saito. This is the magician revealing his most closely guarded secret.” He poured the whiskey into two glasses and handed one to Saito.

Saito watched him closely as he sank into a chair, slumping into it as he saw him do in the warehouse any number of times. His nonchalance was obviously affected but Saito knew this only because he understood the situation they were in, knew that no one could be unaffected by this. From Eames’s body language and expression, there was no way he could be able to tell.

Saito took a seat in an identical chair and sipped his whiskey. It was excellent; smooth with honey tones. Strange to think that this was a dream – was the flavour his own concoction? Or since Arthur was the dreamer here, was it his?

“I am listening,” Saito said, folding one leg over the other.

Eames smiled and nodded, taking a sip of his drink. He appeared to be in no great hurry. “Fischer has had an extractor train him in how to defend himself against people such as myself; but an extractor who does this will always, always leave a backdoor. It doesn’t matter how much you pay; someone else might pay later for an extraction and you want to be able to do it, defences or no.”

“No honour among thieves,” Saito said, and Eames chuckled.

“On the contrary. There is indeed honour among thieves – it’s our clients whom we rip off. Another thing about the backdoor, you see, is that almost every extractor will use the same one: a kiss.”

“And why is that?”

“Because there is no telling whether or not you will be hired to do that extraction; whether the extraction you’ve been hired for will be militarized. You can research, yes, but as we have seen here, the research doesn’t always pick it up. And trust me: if Arthur’s research doesn’t uncover it, no-one’s will.”

It was ingenious, really; a support system amongst elite dream criminals.

“There are some who insist on using different methods; and it doesn’t work in all cases. It depends upon the subject’s sexuality, for example, upon their tastes and prejudices. All kinds of murky subconscious stuff. And it only works on the projections who actually see it. But usually it buys you just enough time to get the job done.”

“So you should always work with people you don’t mind kissing?”

Eames laughed and nodded. “Yes, precisely.”

“Good to know.” Saito lifted his drink to his lips and felt an explosion of pain. The ice clinked in his drink as he shook, breathing hard, trying to get himself under control.

“It’ll get worse,” Eames said, fixing Saito with a sharp stare. “The longer we’re down here the worse it will get.”

Saito nodded and composed his features, shifting his drink to his other hand so that he could take a mouthful. Whatever would happen, would happen. All he could do was attempt to hasten the team’s success.

“Then perhaps we should do something that will be of use to Mr. Cobb,” Saito suggested, finishing his drink.

“Actually,” Eames said as he put his empty glass on the table beside him. “I wanted to offer my services; to help distract you from the pain.”

“Oh?”

“From experience, I know that an orgasm can help in these situations.”

For a long moment Saito was speechless – a rare feat. Then he smiled.

“Is that so? And what, then, are you offering? And for what price?”

“I’m offering a blow job and the price is your continued assistance in this job. Just because you’re a tourist doesn’t mean you get away with not bearing your share of the load.” Eames’s words were matter-of-fact but Saito did not get to be the head of Proclus Global without being able to read people. In Eames’s eyes he saw simmering heat.

“And do we have time?”

“Trust me, Saito. I’m good at this.”

Saito’s eyes dropped to Eames’s lips and thought, yes, he would be. The thought of those lips wrapped around his dick made his own curve into a smile.

“Very well.”

Eames took his glass from him, placing it next to his own before dropping to his knees in front of Saito. It was a no-nonsense affair, no time for the flirtation or teasing that Saito suspected was a large part of foreplay for Eames.

Eames unzipped Saito’s trousers and leaned in, his tongue dancing over Saito’s shaft. The lips that had distracted Saito at meetings got in on the act as well, sucking the head into his mouth, taking him deep before paying attention to his balls while a hand stroked him firmly.

Saito was not an easy man to please. Over the years he had shared his nights with many, men and women both. Since his wife had filed for divorce he had increased this number exponentially. Despite this wealth of experience, few had Eames’s skill and fewer still had looked as lovely sucking on his cock.

When Eames’s fingers whispered lightly over his perineum Saito gasped and came in his mouth. Stars of pleasure and pain pinwheeled behind his eyelids though the sudden throbbing agony of the bullet wound faded quickly as the endorphins washed over him.

After wiping carefully at him with a handkerchief, Eames zipped him up and stood.

“Better?”

“Yes,” Saito said, standing himself and surprised by just how much better he felt.

Eames’s trousers were tented by his erection but when Saito reached for him, Eames shook his head.

“I may ask you to return the favour at some point,” he said. “But right now I need you to go down to the lobby. Wait for me there.”

After a moment’s pause, Saito nodded. He knew when to listen to people with more experience.

“When we are in a safer environment, I would be honoured to return the favour,” he said, giving a short bow before leaving the room as instructed.

Once they arrived at LAX he would ensure that Eames accompanied him to a luxurious hotel room. He was not one to let favours go unreturned; especially not favours that were so pleasurable.

For now, he turned his mind to the goal. Once the idea was placed he could return to more carnal desires. And when that happened Saito wasn’t sure he would ever want Eames to leave his bed.


End file.
